


South Side Romance

by AnnaNSmith



Category: Shameless (US)
Genre: Blow Jobs, Deepthroating, Established Relationship, Fluff and Smut, Humor, Husbands, Love Confessions, M/M, Post-Season/Series 10, Rimming, Swearing
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-05-15
Updated: 2020-05-15
Packaged: 2021-03-02 20:15:54
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,389
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24202690
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/AnnaNSmith/pseuds/AnnaNSmith
Summary: On a lazy peaceful night Ian and Lip have a conversation. Ian tries to put in words how things turned into him marrying Mickey Milkovich."Ian inhales the smoke, relishing in the simple pleasure. Mickey’s head was resting on his lap, his husband sprawled on the rest of the couch, asleep. Absentmindedly he strokes his thumb over Mickey’s jawline alongside the curve to his ear. He takes another puff and leans his head back on the couch, exhaling, letting his mind drift off. This is nice, he thinks."
Relationships: Ian Gallagher/Mickey Milkovich
Comments: 11
Kudos: 298





	South Side Romance

**Author's Note:**

> When I wrote this it completely slipped my mind that Lip has a drinking problem. Thus, in this fic he doesn't. Let him have a beer.

Ian inhales the smoke, relishing in the simple pleasure. Mickey’s head was resting on his lap, his husband sprawled on the rest of the couch, asleep. Absentmindedly he strokes his thumb over Mickey’s jawline alongside the curve to his ear. He takes another puff and leans his head back on the couch, exhaling, letting his mind drift off. This is nice, he thinks. He is buzzed pleasantly, as he always gets after a beer, courtesy to his meds. It took Mickey longer to get there, but he had passed out eventually. One arm still hanging from the couch, an almost empty beer bottle lying next to his hand. Mickey’s tolerance is higher than the few drinks he’s had this evening, but he was tired. They’ve been having sex almost every chance they got the past couple weeks. Really fucking great sex. They still must be in their honeymoon phase, Ian surmises. Or sex with your husband is just generally fucking better. What does he know, not that he ever had any references.

This is nice, he thinks again. He wonders sometimes if he doesn’t put things too simple. Maybe doesn’t give enough credit. Unlike Mickey who, and the 16-year-old him would have never believed possible, was pretty fucking open with his feelings. He had once asked Mandy how he’d know if a guy liked him and she told him they’d get this look in their eyes. Back then he didn’t really see it, maybe because he didn’t know what to look for or because Mickey was still too fucked up by his dad to let anyone really see him. But now, he recognizes it. Fucking everyday, really. He’s not sure Mickey is actually aware of it, how he projects how he feels about him so openly or if he just doesn’t give a fuck. Mickey has become pretty fearless, unashamed, and just… happy, he supposes. It’s damn charismatic. Alongside all the fucks and shits and threats he shouts around. Ian chuckles, real South Side romance he’s got there.

As it stands, he sometimes wishes he could be more like that. He does love Mickey, but he just doesn’t always know how to show him the way Mickey does. So he concentrates on what he can do, tells him he loves him when it matters and tries to do it more often even when it doesn’t. And he hopes that over time he can be a little more like Mickey. God knows that Mickey deserves that.

He inhales the last of his cigarette, his gaze caught on the silver around his finger.

“This is nice,” he murmurs to himself.

“What is?” Lip asks, walking into the living room. He takes the cigarette butt from Ian’s hand, exchanges it for a cool bottle of beer, puts it out in the ashtray, and settles into the recliner with his own beer in hand.

“Hey,” Ian greets. He hadn’t noticed Lip coming home, surprising given the fact it was so unusually quiet tonight in the Gallagher house. “Just thinking.”

“About being married? About Mickey?” Lip asks, small smile on his face, looking over where Mickey was sleeping next to his brother.

“Yeah,” Ian replies, looking down at his husband, letting his fingers drift a little into the short hair behind Mickey’s ear.

“Man, who would have thought you’d end up marrying Mickey Milkovich,” Lip chuckles, taking a swig from his beer and leaning back into the recliner.

Ian laughs softly, nodding in agreement.

“How _did_ that happen actually?” Lip asks genuinely perplexed by the picture in front of him.

“I remember you being at the wedding,” Ian says, his eyebrow raised pointedly.

“Yeah, no, I know. I was the one making sure Wojcik didn’t go after you with a bat,” he replies amused. “I mean, why Mickey? After all these years, you end up back with him. Didn’t really see that coming. And then you even go and marry him.”

Ian turns to look at Mickey briefly and then focuses on the ceiling, letting the question sink in.

“Don’t really know how to answer that,” he says.

He thinks back on just a few minutes ago, where he wished he was bit more like Mickey. Tackling things head on. So he wants to try. Try putting it in words what Mickey and he have.

“He was my first love,” he lets the words hang in the air. “A lot of shit happened and it was intense. Then I was diagnosed and I-I just wasn’t in the right place to be with him. Of course, that’s when he ended up in prison, so not much of a healthy basis to be in a relationship. So I moved on, got my life under control, as much as is possible for a Gallagher at least,” he huffs and they both drink to that. He pauses for a moment, dwelling in his memories. He continues, his voice softer now. “But when I heard his voice over the phone after he had escaped and called me up, I just, I knew he wasn’t out of my system. Like at all, Lip. When I saw him standing right in front of me, it was just,” he sighs, hating yet again how inept he is at this. “Real. Like I could feel more. Breathe in deeper. He was just there and it felt right. I don’t know, man, some shit like that.”

“That’s why you took that little road trip to the Mexican border?”

“Pretty much. Also, I wasn’t ready to say goodbye.” He shrugs.

“How come you left him then?” Lip asks.

“It wasn’t really the life I wanted. Mexico, being on the run. I was scared of the uncertainty of what it would mean to be with Mickey.”

“Yeah,” Lip agrees in understanding. “I get it.”

“I told him I loved him and then I left him to cross the border by himself,” he sighs. “I don’t even know how he found it in him to come back to me, have himself thrown into prison again just to be with me. Sometimes I think since I pressured him to come out in front of all these people, in front of his dad, he just doesn’t do things half-heartedly anymore, you know. He’s just this force. Fuck, it’s scary and... mesmerizing,” he stops, cringing at his own word choice. “Fuck, shit. It’s just, real,” he ends on that poor term again. “He makes everything real to me.”

They sit in silence, letting Ian’s explanation sink in, quietly nursing their beers. Lip can't help but think how much the meds are actually limiting his brother. Keeping his moods in check, making him docile. He hadn't really realized what that would take from his life. What it would rob.

“So, I think what I’m trying to say is, when I tried going about my life without him, the moment he stepped back into it, nothing compared to the feeling of being with him. I feel more alive,” he admits, staring at the ceiling.

Lip’s a little bit proud how his little brother described his feelings. He nods in understanding, takes another sip from his beer.

  
  
“That’s nice,” he quips, repeating what Ian had said before.

Ian turns to look at his brother and starts laughing softly, Lip joining him. “Fuck you.”

“No, hey, really it is,” Lip says, still laughing a little. “You look good together. How you manage to handle all that Milkovich is still a mystery to me though.”

“You should know, you dated Mandy,” Ian returns immediately.

“Yeah, but there is the Mandy brand of Milkovich and then there is the Mickey brand of Milkovich,” he points out, scratching his head, thinking about the Milkovich crazy.

Ian makes this eye shift which means he has to agree with that assertion. “He might be a bit rough-”

His brother scoffs upon hearing the understatement.

“-but you just have to get a feel for him. He’s actually pretty easy to get along with.”

“Not really buying that,” Lip says, casually shaking his head.

“No, really. You just gotta give him a chance. Don’t talk bullshit in front him, he’ll call you on your shit. Have his back when he needs it. Let him be him; let him shout and joke around, just step in when he starts to get homicidal. You might have to take a punch or two, but he’ll listen to you eventually. And no matter what,” his voice turns lower and more serious. “This is important,” he swallows. “No matter what, if he asks you for a chair, give it to him. Just, don’t ask any questions, give him what he wants. I’m serious, Lip. Do not ever stand in his way when he talks about chairs,” he whispers insistently.

“Wha-” Lip exhales confused. “Chairs? What are you talking about?”

Leaning forward, Ian continues to explain as quietly as possible. “Dude, just do what I say. A month ago he almost killed a guy. He starts talking about chairs, you just don’t argue with him and give him what he wants. Understood?” He urgently demands, jostling Mickey unintentionally.

  
His husband turns his head slightly, slowly blinking awake and Ian and Lip quickly lean back from each other.

“What the fuck you talkin’ about?” He groans, tilting his head further to see Lip sitting across from him upside down from his position. “Yo, when did you come back home?”

“Just now,” he answers, still unsure of what just happened. He glances to Ian who surreptitiously shakes his head not to bring their earlier conversation up. “’M gonna check on Fred,” he says, sounding almost like a question.

“Alright, good night,” Ian says awkwardly.

  
Hesitantly Lip stands up and looks between his brother and Mickey and, confused, leaves the two alone. “Good night.”

“The fuck was that?” Mickey asked, raising his eyebrows, puzzled.

“Nothing,” Ian answers and tries to be less tense.

“Uh-huh, you two talkin’ about me or somethin’?” Mickey inquires suspiciously.

“No,” Ian says quickly, then tries to back-paddle. “Yes. I mean, a little. Yes,” he admits.

“What were you two shitheads saying, huh?” Expectantly, he raises his eyebrows, waiting for an answer. He is still lying on Ian’s lap, so Ian is stuck and can’t escape.

“Just,” he starts. “About us.”

“About us how?”

Ian looks down at Mickey, still flustered. “About us. Feelings. About us having feelings.”

“The fuck? Jesus, what is this? Girls night? Fucking Gallaghers,” he shakes his head disgruntled. Ian breathes a little bit easier and relaxes back into the couch. Mickey’s gaze wanders left and right and after a moment of quiet, he asks,”What exactly were you talking about?”

Ian tries to stick to his resolve a second time tonight. He sighs and looks his husband in the eyes, returning his hand back to caressing his cheek.

  
“About how I love you.”

Mickey looks a little bit off-guard at first, but pretty quickly he can’t help smiling. “Yeah?”

“Yeah,” Ian agrees easily.

“Love you too,” Mickey returns, raising his hand to cup Ian’s face and pulling him down slowly for a kiss.

Ian’s hand keeps brushing over Mickey’s cheek until the kiss turns longer and more heated. He wanders down to his chest, kneading through the clothes once and then pulling Mickey’s shirt up. He let’s his hand travel further down along his husband’s naked stomach, slips under his boxers, and slowly starts stroking his dick to attention. Mickey moans against his lips contently.

“Fuck yeah,” he exhales. “Want me to suck you off?”

Ian nods, starting to open his pants with his left hand. “Want me to suck _you_ off?

“Love that mouth of yours,” Mickey agrees easily and then turns his attention to his husband’s dick.

“Not as good as yours,” Ian moans when Mickey starts taking his dick in his mouth. “Fuck.”

He goes down on him a few more times before he actually answers. “Well, what can I say? Is a nice dick. Love to give it my attention.”

The angle is a bit trickier, but Mickey manages to wrap his mouth around Ian’s dick just right and starts sucking eagerly. He positions his tongue so it laps around the underside where Ian’s vein goes. And then he starts to go down even deeper.

“Oh, fuck,” Ian groans, stretching the last vowel breathlessly.

Absentmindedly he remembers he wanted to return the favor and pushes Mickey’s boxers down. He leans down carefully, knowing the position will push his dick further into Mickey’s mouth, but Mickey just moans enthusiastically, moves a little bit with him, and then pushes down on his dick deeper, letting him enter his throat.

“Jesus fucking Christ! Fuck, Mickey! Fuck yeah!” Mickey doesn’t stop his ministrations, but he notices Ian getting sidetracked again, so he blindly places his hand to Ian’s head and pushes him unceremoniously down to his crotch. The movement rocks Ian’s dick in a way that makes him gag for a moment, but he can’t say he doesn’t get off on that too. Ian does certainly, if he goes by the long-suffering groan coming from behind him. “Oh my god, Mickey.”

He tries to gather his wits and turns his attention to Mickey’s dick. It’s right next to him and so he sticks out his tongue to give it one long lick around the shaft. Mickey moans excitedly, the vibrations feel absolutely amazing on his dick. He takes the head in his mouth, and sucks gently. He strokes the base with one hand and massages Mickey’s balls with his other. Hollowing his cheeks he goes down further, sucking him off in a steady pace. Which is not actually steady at all, given how his concentration is fucking shot by Mickey still continuing to deepthroat him.

“Fuck, so good...” He decides he has to step up his game a little, he is so close to coming, and needs Mickey to catch up quickly.

“Kick off your pants,” he orders, helping him push the pants further down. Mickey doesn’t even falter in his ministrations when he complies, Ian can’t believe it. Can’t believe how fucking good Mickey is at this, while not a surprise after being together for so long, it’s still fucking unbelievably amazing.

With the pants off, Ian gets handsy quickly and pulls Mickey’s legs to him until one leg is up his shoulder and the other stretches off the couch, resting on the coffee table. He gets his arms underneath Mickey from both sides and pushes his hips off the couch. Mickey startles somewhat. Being bend like this suddenly requires him to shift a little. He pushes against the coffee table with his left hand, so he can shift his torso toward the back of the couch while his lower body stays center for Ian. Once he is in the right position again, he hums eagerly and keeps going. Ian pulls him in a little further and then places his tongue on Mickey’s scrotum and licks in one long stripe to his asshole. According to the moans vibrating off his dick, Ian guesses his husband likes where this is going. He licks a little around the hole, but he is so hot and bothered already, he quickly dives in with his tongue. Mickey’s hand on his side grips tighter, urging him to keep on going. In return he sucks Ian’s dick harder, massaging the tip of his dick with his throat whenever he can. Ian moans into his husband’s ass, kneading his cheeks hard. “I’m gonna come, Mickey.”

“Then come,” Mickey replies, briefly taking his mouth off Ian’s dick. “But your tongue better not leave my ass, man. Wanna feel it.”

“’kay,” is all Ian manages and dives back in.

He feels the usual pull coming over him, but keeps on licking inside Mickey’s walls. He adds his middle finger easily alongside his tongue, feeling Mickey tense up. His dick is practically twitching as a response and he finds it so hot, it’s the final push that brings him over the edge. He had the forethought of pulling Mickey’s head a little off his dick, so he doesn’t actually come down his throat. He lets out a long groan while he comes, his tongue still inside Mickey. And Mickey fucking enjoys the sensation so much he comes himself, all over his chest.

“Fucking hell, Gallagher,” Mickey swears breathlessly, dropping his legs back down. “That was fucking intense.”

Ian nods, still trying to come down and collapses into the sofa’s back rest.

“Like your tongue in my ass.” He grins wickedly.

“Well, I like my dick down your throat,” Ian counters out of breath.

“You sure do, Firecrotch,” he agrees, stealing an appreciative look at his husband’s dick, licking his mouth for the remaining taste of his come.

“Can’t move,” Ian declares.

“If you don’t want your family to find our dicks hanging out first thing tomorrow morning, ya hafta.”

Ian groans unhappily and just closes his eyes, enticing a fond snort from his husband.

“Come on,” he pats Ian’s stomach gently and sits up. He picks up his boxers and pants with one arm and the other he wraps around his husband’s side, pulling him. “Up ya go!”

Begrudgingly, Ian complies, leaning heavily on Mickey.

“Did I just suck the strength out of your legs?” Mickey asks, visibly amused.

“Shut up.”

“I think I did,” Mickey says satisfied with himself, steadily moving up the stairs.

“Shut up.”

“Well, you know how to make me,” he replies teasingly.

“Let’s do that again sometime,” Ian proposes, nuzzling behind Mickey’s ear.

“Sure thing,” he agrees, turning his head, so he can look into his husband’s eyes and kiss him.

“I love you,” Ian says once more, leaning his head against Mickey’s.

Mickey licks his lips once, looking down to the floor and then up again, small smile on his lips. “Should talk more often with your brother.”

“’kay,” Ian simply replies and then lets himself fall on the bed.

Mickey leans down, brushes a strand of hair off Ian’s forehead and kisses him. “Man, I love you too.”

\--

Lip sits at the kitchen table, lazily eating his cereal before he has to go to work. He reminds himself to pick up some things he still needs for the house before he moves in on the weekend. He is pretty happy with his progress. The pipes are fixed, the walls have been painted, and the doors unjammed. They moved in most of the furniture already and now it just needs some finishing touches.

He hears movement from upstairs, somebody coming out of the bathroom and a moment later, he finds Mickey hopping down the stairs.

“Morning. You going somewhere?”

“Yeah, seeing my PO. I swear he brings his sock puppet again, I will shove it down his fucking throat,” Mickey says agitated first thing in the morning. He fumbles around his pants and denim jacket restlessly.

“Lookin’ for something?” Lip asks after a bite of cereal.

Mickey turns to him once, nodding, then back again when he eyes what he was looking for.

“Move. Gimme that chair,” he demands, gesturing for Lip to get up.

Lip freezes mid-spoon and looks up at him. The milk is dripping off his spoon while he thinks back to what Ian had told him. Chairs. Mickey. Fucking do what he says.

  
  
Mickey stares quizzically at him, gesturing him to get the fuck up.

Very, very slowly, he starts to stand. Still hunched over his cereal, spoon still in the air, he side steps cautiously until he feels the next chair and slowly sits down, eyeing Mickey carefully all the while.

Mickey does this eye thing where he doesn’t understand what’s going and thinks everyone is just crazy. He narrows his eyes at Lip, who still hasn’t put down his spoon, and moves to the chair where he picks up his other jacket. Lip still keeps looking at him, gauging his reaction and Mickey fucking doesn’t know why.

They keep looking at each other silently while Mickey retreats until he’s at the door and leaves. Outside down the stairs, Mickey still looks confused, blindly moving through his jacket pockets. Finally he finds what he was looking for and pulls out the pack of cigarettes. He lights one immediately. He tastes the familiar taste of tobacco and exhales.

  
  
“Fucking Gallaghers.”


End file.
